Coupons
by turbomagnus
Summary: It's a long day for C.J. when Danny comes up with another one of his plans to woo the Press Secretary... and ends up drawing half the West Wing into it.


Disclaimer: I don't own 'The West Wing' and I don't make money from writing fanfiction about it. Sorry, it's the wrong time of day for me to be witty with a disclaimer.

Author's Note: Inspired, strangely enough, for an ad I saw for thirty-dollars off a limo rental - only good for weddings. The idea of such a discount itself was odd enough, but then the idea of someone actually making the suggestion to get married because of it came to mind. The raw idea for that part set on my computer for a few weeks until I was discussing unused story ideas with a housemate when West Wing was brought up and they suggested Danny make the proposal to C.J.

A story was born.

* * *

"Coupons"  
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

* * *

White House Press Secretary C.J. Cregg opened the door to her office and mentally groaned, "Danny!"

Danny Concannon looked up from where he was laying on her office couch, "Yes, C.J.?"

C.J. stepped into her office, shut the door behind her and glared at him hard, "Why are you in my office... again?"

"Because for some reason people don't want me out in the actual West Wing," Danny answered her, "Which is weird considering that Josh gets to come and go as he pleases."

"Josh works here, Danny," C.J. countered.

"I work here, C.J."

"Yes, but Josh actually works _for the White House_," C.J. elaborated in an annoyed tone.

"I know, but in my defense I've never claimed the President has a secret plan to fight inflation, which actually should put me above him."

"Danny!"

"You keep doing that," he observed, "Yelling my name, I mean."

"Let's get this over with, Idiot Boy; no, we're not leaking anything on 359; no, you had your 'visitation' with Gail yesterday; and no, I won't have dinner with you tonight, tomorrow night or any other night in the foreseeable future."

"I wasn't thinking about asking you to dinner."

"Really? Then what were you thinking, Danny, that required you to be in my office instead of your cozy little cubicle on the other side of the Press Room?"

"I was thinking that we should get married."

C.J. froze and shook her head, "I know I will regret asking this, but why do you say we should get married?"

"I have a coupon for thirty-dollars off a limo rental."

"And that's why we should get married."

"It's only good for wedding rides," Danny explained, sitting up.

"So let me see if I've got this straight; you snuck into my office - again - to ask me to marry you just so you could take advantage of a limo discount."

Danny smiled and nodded, "So, will you have your dad fly out to give you away or do you plan to ask the President to do it instead?"

"Daniel Concannon, if you do not get out of my office, I am going to kill you with my bare hands!"

"You know, C.J.," Danny stood up and walked over to stand in front of her, "I have a friend at the Washington Naval Yard who actually has some very convincing figures on how the wife is usually the killer."

"Danny, out!"

"So you'll think about it?" He asked.

"Out!" C.J. repeated, stepping to the side and pointing to the door.

Danny shrugged, opened the door and put one foot out before looking back at C.J., "It doesn't have to be a church wedding, if that helps."

"Go!"

* * *

It was about an hour later and C.J. was going through a file before the mid-day press briefing when the door to her office opened again and the senior of the West Wing's two 'idiot boys', otherwise known as Deputy Chief-of-Staff Josh Lyman, stuck his head in, "Hey, C.J.?"

Exasperated, the Press Secretary dropped the folder she was reading from on her desk, "What do you want, Josh?"

"Do you have any idea why Danny Concannon was in my office a few minutes ago asking me if Sam, Charlie and I would be Best Man and groomsmen when the two of you got married?"

Slowly, C.J. pushed her chair back and stood up, walking around her desk and towards the door.

"I get the feeling I just made a mistake in asking that," Josh muttered.

"Excuse me, Joshua," C.J. growled, "I have to go kill Danny now."

As she pushed past him, Josh took his life into his own hands, "Does this mean Donna doesn't get to be Maid-of-Honor? Because, you know, she heard Danny talking about it and wanted to be a part... and she was saying something about not trusting me at a wedding without herself there, which I don't understand and which also somewhat scares me."

"Josh," C.J. turned and grabbed him by the collar, "Unless you want to join Danny in dying today, you may want to shut up and get back to your own office."

* * *

C.J. walked down the hall like a woman on a mission, which she was, with Hell itself following five steps behind her, which it might well have been. When she got ahold of Danny, she fully intended on doing far worse than killing him. What that would be, she hadn't decided yet, but it would be glorious, painful for him and glorious for her. Her thoughts of the glorious suffering she would inflict on him was interrupted by a voice from off to the side.

"C.J., the President wants to see you in the Oval Office," Charlie Young informed her, coming out of a side hall.

Stopping and facing him, C.J. took a breath to get her emotions under control, "Can it wait?"

"No," Charlie shook his head, "I don't think so."

* * *

Entering the Oval Office, C.J. shut the door behind her and walked over to stand in front of the President's desk, waiting for him to speak.

Putting down the report he had been reading, Bartlet took off his reading glasses with a flourish, "C.J., why am I just now hearing about you and Danny Concannon being engaged?"

Mentally and quickly, C.J. counted to ten in her head, she couldn't respond to Bartlet the same way she had to the others, no matter how much she wanted to - he was, after all, President of the United States, "That's because there is no engagement, sir."

Bartlet's eyebrows shot up, "You've called it off already?"

"Respectfully, Mr. President, there was nothing to call off because there was no engagement, just Danny being an idiot again," C.J. answered.

"Well," the President sighed, replacing his glasses, "That makes him no different from just about anyone in the building... You're sure there's no engagement?"

"Very sure, sir."

"Because if there were, I'd be happy to give you away if your dad couldn't make it."

C.J. frowned, "Mr. President, you wouldn't have already talked to Danny about this, would you?"

Bartlet smiled, "What makes you think that, C.J.?"

"Because he said almost the exact same thing about you or my father giving me away and if you did, then I'm going to have to hurt him more than I originally planned... Sir," C.J. responded.

"Well, I happen to like Danny and wouldn't want to see him hurt any more than I would Josh or Sam. So, C.J., now that you've said that, I won't say if we talked or not," Bartlet answered, "Feel free to close the door on your way out, C.J."

"Yes, Mr. President," C.J. nodded, taking the dismissal before turning and walking towards the door to the outer office.

As soon as she had put her hand on the door knob, Bartlet spoke up again, "And C.J.?"

C.J. froze with the door half-open, "Sir?"

"Would it really be that bad?"

"Have a good day, Mr. President," C.J. finished opening the door and walked through, pulling it shut behind her.

After the door closed, Bartlet leaned back in his chair and laughed to himself.

* * *

The door to the Press Corps offices slammed open.

"Alright, what did you do?"

Danny didn't look up from his typing, "You'll need to be more specific, Claudia Jean, I do lots of things."

"You know what you did, Danny."

"Look, I didn't know that the cafeteria had them specially stocked for her, I thought they were for everyone, so I took one. Last time I looked, it's still a free country and as a member of the White House press corps, I'd expect to be one of the first to know if that changed. I'll buy Margaret another gluten-free cupcake, okay?"

"Danny!" C.J. snapped, "What did you do to get the President to go along with this idiot scheme of yours?"

"Oh, that," Danny looked up, leaned back and knitted his fingers together behind his head, "I asked him to."

That gave her a moments pause, causing C.J. to have to ask, "You just asked him to?"

"Yeah," Danny shrugged without moving his hands from their current position, "He said something about paying him back by aiming the garter at Josh, I guess he figures that Donna would have her own way of getting the bouquet. Anyway, he thought it was a good idea, so he was happy to help."

"I swear, if it wasn't for the Secret Service," C.J. muttered, "I'd slap him, President or not..."

"I think Dr. Bartlett's ahead of you on the list of people who can slap him," Danny answered, "So, have you finished thinking about it?"

"Danny," C.J. ranted, "What makes you think I'd even want to marry you?"

"Because you come up with all sorts of reasons that we can't be a couple except the only one that actually has any real bearing on the subject," Danny shrugged again.

"And that would be...?"

"You keep giving me reasons why we shouldn't be together," Danny informed her, "But you've never actually come right out and said 'No, Danny, I don't want to be with you'."

"And if I did say that, Danny, what would happen?"

"I'd probably be outwardly just upset and disappointed, but secretly heartbroken and leave Washington; you'd eventually realise what you lost and mope around a few years until some handsome Secret Service agent who can give as good as he gets sweeps you off your feet and into his arms," Danny rattled off as though he had thought about it.

"What do you think this is, some prime-time tv show?"

"Depends, what answer would be most likely to further endear me to you?"

"Danny, trust me, you could not be any less dear to me."

"So... The wedding's off?"

"What wedding!" C.J. yelled, "Danny, what you and every other nincompoop in this building with a Y-chromosome seems to have forgotten is that there was no wedding to begin with, just another one of your stupid stunts!"

"Hey!" Danny shouted back, jumping to his feet, "I'll concede that there was no wedding, I'll even agree that I'm a nincompoop with a Y-chromosome, but you will _not _call my stunts 'stupid'! ...They're sensitive and you'll hurt their feelings."

"Danny, will you shut up and be serious for a moment!" C.J. demanded.

"Depends, will you get the stick out from up your butt or has it been there long enough to claim permanent residency status?" Danny shot back.

Carol stuck her head around the corner carefully, "Is this a bad time?"

"Yes!" both C.J. and Danny shouted at the same time.

"Just checking," C.J.'s assistant muttered before she slipped away to warn the rest of the West Wing to stay away from the Press Room for a while and maybe even find some alibis, just in case one of the pair finally reached the point of killing the other.

'Or having sex in the middle of the Press Room,' Carol thought to herself, 'I don't know which is worse...'

In the room Carol had just left behind her, Danny and C.J. hadn't gotten that far yet, but were currently engaged in a staredown.

"You know, C.J.," Danny finally broke the stalemate, "It'd be helpful to reach a decision before the offer expires and leaves me with coupons that I can't use."

C.J. shooked her head, "Are you always this annoyingly persistant or is it just with me?"

"I like to think of persistance as one of my strongpoints," Danny answered, "Though I have been known to possess down-right pigheaded stubborness on some matters. Combine those with a sense of hopeless romanticism and there you go. Or rather, here we are - stasis point; I won't back down because I know I'm right about us, you won't because it would mean admitting you were wrong all along, so... stasis point. Schwerpunkt. Deadlock. Mexican standoff. I can keep thinking up synonyms all day, you know. I'm a reporter, it's what I do, I think up new ways to say things somebody else has already said... usually you, for that matter..."

C.J. slapped him across the face, "Do you ever shut up, Danny?"

"Nobody's given me a good reason to, yet," Danny answered, rubbing his cheek, "Did you know that it hurts somebody when you slap them?"

"Would you rather I punched you?"

"Actually, C.J., all else being equal, my personal preference would be you kissing me, if I were being honest," Danny countered.

"And what makes you think that's going to happen, Fish-boy?"

"Well, the fact that you're using pet names is a good indicator."

"It was an insult, Danny!"

"Yeah, but insults hurt people and since you only hurt the ones you love, it just proves you love me, C.J.," Danny returned.

"Danny, stop being an idiot and saying stupid things - just because it's an old saying doesn't make it true, you don't only hurt the ones you love, it's a stupid saying and you're an idiot for saying it!"

"You know, C.J., you keep calling me a nincompoop, idiot, Fish-boy... it hurts my feelings," Danny put on a kicked-puppy expression.

"Would you prefer I hurt your face again? And don't even think about making another comment about preferring me kissing you!" C.J. snapped.

"See, didn't we already do this scene? Right after you slapped me?" Danny asked, "I think you're being repetative in an attempt to avoid answering the real question, so this time I'll even ask it right... C.J. Cregg, will you marry me? Have my children? Help me use those thirty percent off coupons?"

"Fine, Danny, we'll use the damn coupons!" C.J. yelled, then groaned as she realised what she had just done.

"Okay," Danny answered calmly.

C.J. narrowed her eyes at him, "You realise, of course, that I'll be making your life miserable at work _and_ at home from now on?"

"Small price to pay," Danny conceded, "So... Your dad or the President?"

"Danny!"


End file.
